


His Will to Live

by Lyallwolfart



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Angst, Credence(mentioned), Homeless!Newt, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Theseus(mentioned), Tina(mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyallwolfart/pseuds/Lyallwolfart
Summary: Newt had lived on the streets for years, developing an illness that he knew would kill him but all that mattered was his dog, luckily a kind man was willing to feed him. Thats all that mattered.





	His Will to Live

Newt sat on the street, shivering as the cold snow landed in his hair, he gave a few painful coughs. The black scruffy german shepherd mix whimpered sniffing his cold trembling hands for any source of food. Newt could only pet the dog’s head giving him a small bit of bread he managed to find in a dumpster, it seemed to be enough cause the dog wagged its tail before settling its head on his lap.

Newt was 19 years old and had been living on the streets for 3 years. His mother and father both died in a car accident, his brother killed in the war. When child services showed up, taking Newt to an orphanage, he expected his life to perk up from the months of difficulty. Instead the kids bullied him and pushed him around, even the woman who ran the orphanage was borderline abusive. Feeding him the bare minimum while constantly putting him down. He had run away when she struck him across the face for the 10th time. He couldn’t deal with it anymore.

He wandered the streets for a few years traveling on the side of highways, an old damaged backpack rested on his back filled with extra clothes, a blanket and some cash. 1 year into his travels he had met the scruffy black dog tied to a tree in a trash filled yard with an old broken down house. He had stayed away at first unsure if he should free the dog. A day later a man came out throwing a glass bottle against the tree the dog was tied to before kicking it, shouting at it about issues with his girlfriend. Newt, had ran forward yelling at the man for hurting the dog. A fist fight had brewed ending with Newt, tied to a pillar in the man’s basement and a bruised and bloody eye. 

The man ended up using him in ways Newt, could never picture himself doing. He kept him there for 3 days before kicking him out of the house with a broken arm and a dislocated ankle. He had returned to the house 2 days later using a rock to break the chain on the dog as the two of them ran away far from the house. 

Newt had finally found himself in the busy streets of New York living on the few coins thrown to him by people who felt enough pity to give. 

A man in a stiff proper and expensive suit sneer at him, while a bratty girl threw a can at his head. By this point, Newt was more than used to the harsh treatment. He rubbed the dog’s head relieving some of the anxiety that was building up inside of him.

“So, Pickett maybe we should just keep going?” 

The dog’s ears perked up as an act of acknowledgement. Newt sighed rubbing his ears gently and quickly peeked over the dogs head to remove the gunk that built up in his eyes. While Newt, was not healthy, plagued with a sickness, depression, a few physical disabilities and a slight blindness in his eye, made sure to keep Pickett as healthy as possible. It was all that mattered to Newt. He was his will to live. 

Newt had finally decided to settle for the day, picking up the cap he left for change only finding $0.34 and chewed up gum. He knew it wasn’t enough to even buy a bottle of water. He had stood up shaky his right leg wobbling with every step. People roughly pushed passed him as he made his way behind “Jacob’s bakery” a nice small bakery with a pudgy man who didn’t mind Newt, camping near his dumpster. He gave pickett his bag quickly sending the dog first before making his way to the corner trash, digging through for something to entertain. 

Finding a copy of today’s paper, he felt satisfied and headed to the alley where Pickett waited for him. A small cardboard box was set up for the dog, so if anything happened to Newt, Pickett would instinctively return to the alley for the man to care for him. The nice young boy who seemed to suffer with socialising, cared for Pickett as well, often coming out to feed the stray pastries. His boss always adding more bacon. It made Newt smile. He always rejected the food, claiming it was a type of theft. He just appreciated the safe place to sleep. 

Newt had curled in the old blanket his back resting against the dumpster as he fell asleep. His tired eyes and body pulling him in, the feeling, newt found, harder to resist each time he closed his eyes.  
\--------

Newt had woken early the next day, he took a short walk around the street leaving Pickett behind, checking each trash can for food or any waste, he was starving. He had made the mistake of looking towards the ground, when he accidentally bumped into a nicely dressed woman, his momentum, causing her to drop her purse. As he bent to pick it up and return it, someone screamed “thief!” The woman had slapped him hard across the face before planting a knee between the legs. She grabbed her purse and ran, leaving Newt confused and hurt. 

He had tried to run, mumbling apologies as people pushed him back down. A police officer finally grabbing his arm tightly before hauling him into a car. She had a stern look, one of pity and disappointment as she threw him into the cell. 

“Mr. Scamander, how did you even get to America?” She asked through the bars of the cell.

Newt had looked shocked, he stared at her, his eyes widened. “H-how do you-”

“So, because you didn’t actually “steal” anything, the most we can let you off with is a warning.” She looked at him, writing something in a notepad before unlocking the cell, and pushing him out the front doors.

Newt didn’t even know where he was, he didn’t recognise the streets or anything. He sighed and headed “uptown” where the bakery would be, following the train tracks, knowing the bakery was under.  
\------

Newt, limped through the city, he felt himself getting weaker and weaker with each step, he coughed more often little drops of blood flying out whenever he did. Finally he stopped, more than relieved to see a bundle of familiar black fur run towards him, he nearly collapsed as he knelt to hug the dog. Tears running down his cheeks. 

Pickett had led him back to the alley, where the man and boy stood. They both looked worried, he assumed they were worried for the dog, not himself. 

“You gave us quite a scare, the dog didn’t like your absence.” The man spoke, a gentle and kind tone.

Newt looked up, startled as he jumped a bit. “Y-you were worried a-about me?”

The man laughed, “Worried, of course we were!” He sighed, “I never told you, I’m Jacob, and this is my worker, Creedence. He adores your dog.” 

Newt nodded and frowned, “He’s not mine, he just stays with me. That’s all. I’d never force him to live with me, considering… everything.” Newt guestered to the alley way. “No, he deserves better than me.” Newt gave a self deprecating chuckle. 

Jacob had patted Credence’s back who went back inside. He stayed watching Newt settle back behind the dump, the boy began coughing, it sounded like he was trying to eat sand paper, he couldn’t help himself when he walked to see him, shining a flashlight at him. 

Newt winced when the light hit his face, he curled pitifully in the blood covered blanket. He coughed again and again finding it difficult to stop. Jacob had ran to him sitting him up, rubbing his back as he hacked his lungs out. Blood flying out with each violent cough. He took one huge breath, before falling back into the coughing fit. His eyes began watering, and his body shook, finally he threw up what little he had in his stomach, mostly blood and stomach acids, he supplied himself, looking at the mix of red and clear liquid. 

He curled into a ball shaking as Jacob rubbed his back, tears rolled down his cheeks again, his hands clutching both his throat and stomach. He began coughing again but this time, it didn’t last as long.

Jacob rubbed the boy’s back, his hand running over the spine, he could feel it poke out of the thin layer of skin, through his dirty worn shirt. He was thin, way to thin for someone his age, it pained him. He noticed the scars that trailed down his neck, and ran across his arms. He wanted to help this boy badly, but knew he would reject the offer. Jacob finally ran a hand through his hair, deciding tomorrow, he’d invite the boy in to stay. He needed a home.

Newt, had curled around Pickett, jotting a quick note he attached to the chain collar as his eyes pulled shut, this time, it felt different as he finally fell asleep. 

Jacob had stepped out early, he had a plate of warm steaming bacon for the dog, and a sandwich for the kid. He placed the plate under the dog’s nose, who happily ate the meat. The boy, did not wake. He stayed still, his eyes shut in a relaxed way, he was pale, too pale. Jacob quickly knelt and shook the boy. 

No response

He grabbed his shoulders and gently shook again, “come on kid, wake up, I-I had a gift for you.” 

Nothing

He grabbed the boy’s wrist and checked for a pulse, any sign of life. It was weak, faint, he picked up and ran inside, letting the dog follow as he placed him on the couch next to the fire, hoping the warm air would work some miracle and wake him. He had decided to wait and give it some time, going down to the bakery to work.

Only an hour into work and Jacob was startled by a loud howl. He ran up stairs and saw the dog, howling by the couch, once he saw Jacob, he bowed and ran to the boy, shoving his head under the limp arm. 

Jacob ran, hoping to see the boy with his eyes open, instead, the boy laid on the surface, same as before. Pale and unmoving. He was frightened to check the pulse, but forced himself. 

Nothing, no beat

Jacob, felt tears well in his eyes. The boy homeless boy he sheltered for a year, lied dead in his home. He never got to know his name. He rubbed the dog’s head and noticed the dirty paper in the dog’s chained collar, he took it, unfolding it. 

“Jacob, please take good care of Pickett, he deserves a good home. Thanks for watching him, Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.”

Jacob held the dog tightly before calling the police.  
\------

The police had managed to sent the dead body to england where it was given to a sibling who survived the war.

**Author's Note:**

> I like writing this kind of stuff, tell me if u want more like it. The sad angsty stuff, where Newt just dies or ends up injured. I was thinking about some kind of story where he ends up with a more serious physical disability that would require, not round the clock, but lots of care.


End file.
